(Art: “The Rescue,” by Mai-sensei)
Tomo looked peeved when I told him I had given Shiomi permission to stay with us. He squinted more than usual and cocked his head to the side as he replied, “It’s your house. But you really do have bad taste in women.”
“Just as bad with guys.” I retorted.
“If you’re dissatisfied, I can move out.”
I had been living with Tomo long enough to tell from his tone that he was only half joking. I couldn’t blame him. Shiomi looked like a load of trouble. Even I knew this wasn’t the brightest decision I had ever made.
“The decision isn’t set in stone,” I said.
The house might be rented in my name, and I paid more of the rent, but it was his home, too. He contributed his share, and I loved him.
I continued, “She’s had a hard time recently, but I told her that if you objected, the deal was off. So just say the word, and I’ll get her out of here as soon as she can move.”
I fully expected him to insist. After all, I hadn’t consulted with him and he was clearly unhappy with the situation.
Secretly, I was a bit relieved. Her implying I might molest her still rankled, and common sense told me it was best to avoid Mikawa-san. Hopefully, Mikawa would lose interest in me if I sent Shiomi away. At the same time, I felt responsible for her. What had I expected bringing home someone as deeply troubled as I could see Shiomi was? I might be giving myself too much credit, but I think I was the only thing standing between Shiomi and a grizzly end.
Tomo sighed. “No, you can let her stay. If what you say is true, she won’t last long on her own. She can stay, that is, if she takes a bath and lets me have my bed back. My back is killing me.”
Those were reasonable demands, and I would make sure she met them. There were a few other things I had in mind as well. After a shower and general sprucing up, I hoped I could at least prove my taste in women wasn’t total trash. I couldn’t do much about her mouth, but with a bath, makeup, hair dye, and food, she would be her old cute self again.
I guess I’m a shallow person. Looks weren’t supposed to be that important, but they were. At least to begin with.
The next morning, as Shiomi folded up the futon, I started on my plan. I made sure Tomo was there, so he would see I was serious. He stood leaning against the side of the kitchen door, looking slightly quizzical. Shiomi had a similar look as I approached and addressed her. “I noticed you don’t have anything clean here. You can borrow some of mine after you bathe,” I said as I held out a large black t-shirt and loose beige cargo pants.
She rolled her eyes and said, “Yes, mother.”
I must not have been as subtle as I thought, but she took the clothes and headed toward the bathroom without more prodding.
Not to be daunted, I continued, “I’m going to stop off and get some things my way home. I can stop at your place if you give me the key. Anything you would like?”
“I don’t think I locked the door. I was in a hurry.”
“More like spaced out,” I thought.
“You can just go in,” she continued. “Anything will be fine.” Then her tone brightened. “Oh, my makeup bag. It’s on the vanity. ”
I took that as a good sign. If she wanted her makeup, maybe she was starting to heal a little on the inside.
“And cigarettes, and not those nasty things you smoke.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I shouted toward the bathroom, walked over to Tomo, and whispered, “See that she eats.”
“Sure, sure. Try not to be too late, Mother.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, I kissed his cheek, saying, “You’re a gem,” and hurried out of the house.
The day was clear and crisp, but the sun felt nice. It reminded me of the day I had started flirting with Shiomi. I felt like things were looking up.
My optimism evaporated by the time I reached the depot where I worked. I wasn’t ready for work, but we had bills to pay. I was still weak from my bout of ghost sickness, and as a result, the boxes seemed extra heavy. Tomo’s back wasn’t the only one that hurt that day.
That wasn’t the only problem. I thought my boss was a little cold and overly formal. I figured out why when I excused myself early. There was no way I wanted to get caught on the bridge after dark.
He frowned and looked me up and down. “You know, we’ve been shorthanded the last few days.”
“Sorry, sorry, but I was sick. And there’s been a creep seen in my neighborhood that tried to abduct a woman. I don’t feel comfortable walking home in the dark.”
Well, it wasn’t a lie; not exactly.
He rolled his eyes and looked displeased.
“I’ll come in early if that helps, and as soon as Tomo fixes our car, I’ll drive,” I added, hoping that would satisfy him.
On the way home, I picked up hair dye for Shiomi and smokes for everyone: Pianissimos, Mevius’, and Camel Lights. I added some Sapporo Premium for my long-suffering partner and decent sake for Hanayome-shin.
The clerk was some tired old guy I didn’t recognize. Without Shiomi, the konbini was a sterile place. At least Mikawa-san didn’t make another appearance.
The next stop was Shiomi’s apartment. It was roughly a fifteen-minute walk uphill. I crossed the street from the Konbini and hurried up a narrow two-lane road surrounded by a mixture of fields, brushy lots, and houses. The pedestrian walkway was narrow, and I wondered how Shiomi, drunk and in house slippers, had made it to where I saw her.
The apartment surprised me as well. It was the middle of three nice white one-story condo units tucked discreetly off the road. It must have been a struggle for two konbini workers to afford a nice place like that.
As I approached, the wind whipped through the trees, causing the branches to lash. I interpreted it as Hanayome-shin expressing displeasure at my being at another woman’s house, not as a warning. Still, I clutched the charms the priest had given me as I tried the door.
As Shiomi had indicated, the door was unlocked. When I walked in, I was immediately assaulted by the rank smell of more than rancid cigarette smoke. Unwashed clothes, liquor bottles, and instant ramen containers littered the floor and every available surface. This was no surprise, though; It was about what I expected.
I gathered clothes, toiletries, the makeup bag, as well as a bewildering array of loose makeup supplies from her vanity as quickly as possible. I wanted to get out of there fast.
There was a doomed feeling about the place that went beyond the squalor. The shadows were too deep. My eyes kept being drawn to them, expecting to see something move.
When I got home, the house smelled of fresh cigarette smoke. Tomo was a light smoker, so I knew where the smell came from. Shiomi lay on the couch asleep, and Tomo emerged from the kitchen as I closed the front door. I was glad to see him. After my day, I needed a friendly face. To show my appreciation, I waved the blue Mevius pack at him, which earned me a smile.
After a hug, he took the smokes and said, “Thanks. She swiped all my cigarettes.”
Why wasn’t I surprised?
“You look exhausted. Are you sure you should have gone to work today?” He continued with more sympathy.
“Got to work, if I’m going to buy us all smokes,” I joked as I quietly put the supplies I had picked up next to Shiomi’s sleeping form. Tomo raised his left eyebrow quizzically, as was his habit when he questioned something (Or was he trying to be charming). He had obviously detected the false hardiness in my reply.
“Come on, let’s eat,” He said. “And split one of those beers I see in the bag.”
Tomo responded to my glance toward Shiomi by saying, “She already ate. I’d rather just eat with you. You’re much better company, besides I need to talk to you about her.”
I struggled to stay awake while I ate the hamburger steaks Tomo had prepared. Tomo made a couple of abortive attempts to engage me in conversation but was met with grunts, putting off the conversation Tomo obviously wanted to have. That he wanted a serious talk was an ominous sign, but I was too tired.
Then, right after eating, I crashed without writing a single word. I was going to have to make sure that didn’t become a habit. But tonight I wanted to sleep more than anything else in the world.
The next morning, Tomo grumbled at me and said, “Let’s see how the day goes. If things don’t improve, we’ll talk this evening. No excuses!”
Then he brightened and showed me a box that had arrived the day before. “With any luck, this starter will have that old bucket running again.”
There wasn’t anything Tomo liked better than to be tinkering with things. I half suspected he had talked me into buying the Tanto just so he could fix it. It had been a bargain that turned into a nightmare.
With the dread of our impending conversation on my mind, I headed off to work.
Work wasn’t as bad as the day before, even though I started earlier than usual. But I was still beat by the time the boss let us go.
On the way home, I bought more smokes. While I was at it, I bought some fancy meat that was on sale as a peace offering for Tomo. Maybe I should call it a reward. We weren’t fighting, but he was putting up with the inconvenience my goodwill gesture had caused.
When I walked into the house, I immediately knew something was wrong. For a second, I thought Mikawa had gotten in. A woman was screaming at the top of her lungs, but the loud sounds of guitars and drums tipped me off that something else was happening.
Tomo-kun stepped into the main room, glaring at me. “You’re going to have to tell her not to play that music so loud. She’s had metal playing all day, and it’s driving me crazy. When I ask her to turn it down, she just blows me off!”
I walked over, unplugged the offending computer, and shouted towards the bedroom, “You heard him! Living as a family, we have to respect each other’s needs.”
Shiomi emerged with a bottle of beer in her hand. Her face was red, so I suspected it wasn’t the first.
I looked around and noticed several empty beer bottles, an ashtray overflowing with butts, and clothes strewn on the floor. Tomo noticed my glances, shook his head sadly, and retreated to the kitchen. It must have been bad if my neatnik housemate hadn’t swooped in and cleaned up. Gees, what had I thought would happen bringing home someone coming off a bender?
“What’s more,” I added, “We’re not your servants. You clean up after yourself. You might not be able to pay rent, but you can help out.”
In response, she flipped me the bird and in a slurred voice responded, “Can’nt Iiii jus t earn it on on my back. Iiii alwaysss felt you wanted some.”
This girl was a piece of work. Maybe I should have let Mikawa spirit her way, But I had rescued her, so I had a responsibility here. “No, you can’t. I’m not making you my mistress. Besides, if you feel like that, get a job as a hostess. You got the looks.” My tone prickled. First implying I might molest her and now offering to buy me with her body. It really ticked me off.
The comment seemed to sober her up a little, and her face scrunched up. Concentrating on what she said. “I tried it it, but I hate guys, so it didn’t work. Mika saved me! Mika… Mika…” Her lips kept moving, but her voice faded away. Silently repeating Mika’s name like a mantra.
She looked like she was going to cry, but she said her next words firmly. “I want to go.” With those words, she dropped heavily into one of the kotatsu cushions. “I want Mika. Take me home.”
The pitiful looks almost overcame my irritation at her behavior, but not quite. Upsetting Tomo wasn’t okay, and implying I could be bought with sex rankled. Perhaps her leaving was the best answer. No, it couldn’t be the best answer.
Reaching down, I took the beer from her. “Sober up a bit, and if you still want to leave, we can talk about where you can go.”
“Mika, I want Mika.” she wailed, and then she put her head down on the kotatsu and was quiet.
I watched for a moment and when she didn’t stir, I joined Tomo in the Kitchen. I was glad he hadn’t witnessed that. There is no end to the ribbing I would have had to endure about my taste in women.
Tomo didn’t look in the mood to do any teasing. “Well, what are you going to do?” he asked without preamble.
“When she wakes up, I’ll talk to her. It’s partly my fault for bringing home alcohol. I knew she was having problems with it. Anyway, right now she wants to leave, and we can’t very well stop her.”
“What about your ghost?” The sarcasm rubbed me the wrong way. I needed a little love right then, but wasn’t getting any.
“Onryo,” I snapped. “It’s an onryo and if she is determined to join Mikawa-san, what can I do?”
“As long as you’re dealing with it, okay. But deal with it. I don’t want to hear how the ghost will get her.”
After we ate dinner, accompanied by tea, not beer (Shiomi had finished it all), I went to check on her again. She was asleep, so I put a blanket over her and retreated to the bedroom to do some writing. Everything I wrote was flat, blah, blah, blah, and I knew I would junk it. Eventually, I gave up, had a smoke, and went to sleep myself.
Later, I was startled awake by a clattering sound in the living room. My heart was racing, and the thought occurred, yet again, that Mikawa had found a way in. Tomo groaned next to me, “Your girlfriend’s up.”
My heart slowed down. Shiomi was more likely than Mikawa, but just in case, I picked up a charm the priest had given me. Then I went out into the living room and found Shiomi trying to gather the things she had dropped.
“Where are you going at this hour?” I asked, though I could make an educated guess.
“Mika was calling at the door. I need to find Mika. ”
“Not happening.” Not that I could stop her if she walked out the door. “But I’ll take someplace else if you want. I’m not kicking you out on the street, but Tomo wants you to go.” I don’t know why I threw Tomo under the bus, but it was true, and he wouldn’t mind. Why the frick did I care what this woman thought of me?
But I did. I cared.
“Look,” I said. “Maybe I can talk him into letting you stay. If…”
“You can’t keep me here,” she interrupted. “Tomo hates me and I have to find Mika. You’re all lying to me. I know she’s alive.”
She was clutching her things to her chest and staring at me defiantly. She was right. I couldn’t keep her here. “Okay, in the morning, I’ll drop you off at your house.”
“I can’t go home. That place is so depressing. Everything reminds me of her. I can feel her there. And the shadows… They move. Besides, they are going to kick me out soon for non-payment of rent.”
“Then where can I take you?”
Shiomi thought for a moment, “I have an aunt in Kitakata. She’d take me in for a while.” She didn’t sound happy with the idea, but she didn’t offer another suggestion.
I looked Kitakata up on my phone. It was far enough away that maybe Mikawa wouldn’t bother her there. It would be a several-hour drive if the car was working. I couldn’t put her on a bus or train. I had read enough to know that youkai loved trains.
“Tomo, did you get the car working?” I shouted toward the bedroom.
He stuck his head into the living room, his hair more of a mess than usual. “Yeah, it runs. Can’t this wait till morning?”
I glanced at Shiomi, who looked like she would bolt any minute, so I made a snap decision. “No, I need to do this now. Get me a thermos of coffee while we dress. I’ll need it.”
It was going to be a stretch, but I might even get back in time for work. I could picture my boss’s face if I wasn’t. But to be safe, I called to Tomo as we headed out the door, “Call my work and say I had a family emergency and might be a little late.”
That is how my midnight journey to Kitakata started. For the first half hour, we traveled in silence. I wasn’t sure what to say. Things hadn’t gone well between us since I had rescued her. She had been foul-mouthed, rude, disrespectful to both me and Tomo, and continued in the delusion that Mikawa was alive. At one point, I had hoped to bridge the gulf between us, but that had proved hopeless.
We reached the bridge crossing Oppe River and the sound of our car bounced oddly off the white metal panels of the bridge. They might have been voices, which was a disturbing thought given my experience. I hoped we wouldn’t have a repeat of the first night.
Then we were out from between them and the noise stopped. Shiomi took out the pack of Camels and cracked the window. “They’re noisy tonight. You heard them too, didn’t you?”
I looked over briefly and noted a sad smile and replied, “Yeah, I heard them.”
“I never thanked you for the cigs. It’s been a long time since anyone tried buying me cigs I like. She used to get me Durham Blacks. Before…” Her voice trailed off sadly.
“Would you have preferred those?” I asked.
“No, but they looked good when I smoked them, very goth. It fit my image. Fukitsu, Ill Omen. That’s what they called me. Mikawa liked the way I looked. I don’t think she ever actually asked me if I liked kretek. Clove is better than peach you smoke at least.”
She lit the Camel and then blew smoke out the window before continuing, “Do you really want to know about my life? You said you wanted to write about it.”
“Yeah, if you’re still willing. I thought you wouldn’t want to now.”
“I’d like to. My fault I got kicked out. It’s been a long time since anyone was interested in me. You know I might have gone for you except for Mika. I owe her a lot. You’ll understand when I finish.”
*** Fukitsu Suzume (不吉雀) (Shiomi POV) ***
(Art: “Fukitsu Suzume (不吉雀),” by Mai-sensei)
“Hey, watch it!” Mega said, coming out of the nightclub’s makeup room. She paused and then asked, “You okay, Fukitsu?”
Mega was out of focus, and I giggled. “You look like a moth tonight.” I meant she looked fuzzy. Her hair was bleached steel gray, and her stage name was Suzumega, Hawk Moth. Even at the best of times, she looked like she could float away, but now she was literally drifting side to side like she was standing in a breeze. Maybe the sound of the first idol unit starting up generated the wind.
She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been drinking again. You’re going to get fired if they catch you. They warned you.”
Right, she probably wasn’t drifting. It was the beer. I’d only had a few. I couldn’t be that drunk.
She took my arm and led me toward the back, into a corridor with peeling posters, a phone, and a vending machine. I didn’t like it there. I sometimes saw rat-like shadows scurrying around. Just the shadows, not the rats.
Mega continued, “Good thing this isn’t a one-man. You have time to sober up.”
We stopped at the vending machine, and she paid for a coffee that she handed to me, saying, “Never say I haven’t done anything for you.”
She left me slumped against a wall behind the vending machine.
I looked at the can of coffee. “Uhgg, black,” I thought.
Before drinking it, I put my fingers down my throat, careful not to get the vomit on the long sleeves of my outfit. That’s trickier than it sounds. The outfit was styled after a mourning kimono, with long black sleeves that we swirled like banners when dancing.
It wasn’t my first time making myself throw up, but it had been a while. Not since high school. Not a good memory. Back then it was because I had been a pig and eaten too much. Now I needed to get rid of the booze.
At least the coffee covered up the taste of vomit and sour beer. I hate beer, but someone had left it by my makeup. Probably, Taka trying to get me in trouble and stupid-me had cooperated. I didn’t know how Suzumetaka, “Taka,” had found out I was queer, but she lost no opportunity to let me know how disgusting she thought I was. She was probably also the person who had leaked information about my preferences online.
A cigarette improved things further, hiding the rancid smell and killing the gnawing feeling in my stomach.
I finished my coffee and got another, this time milk coffee with lots of sugar. Can in hand, I moved to the other side of the vending machine, away from the smell and the shadows that shouldn’t be there.
“How did I get to this?” I thought? I had dreamed of this life. People loved Fukitsu Suzume. They came to see me, cheered, and bought cheki along with a few minutes of my time. Everyone loved Fukitsu except management, who told me I was incompetent, and the other girls in my unit. They thought I was a burden, or worse. Fukitsu Suzume had erased the geeky, idol-obsessed Shishi. Out on the stage I was a dark goddess of ill omen. All eyes were on me. Their hands reached out, hoping I would look at them, touch them.
I had worked for this: singing and dancing lessons; fights with my family; taunts at school; starving myself; and hours on makeup, nails, and hair. And I wasn’t giving it up because of a bad contract or Taka’s hatred.
(Art: “Backstage,” by Mai-sensei)
I got up and walked toward the front. My gait was more steady. I could do this. Once on stage, the adrenaline would take over, and I would be flying like our unit’s namesake, Tamoto Suzume, the night swallows.
—————————
Story by Nara Moore
Twitter/X:@nara_moore
Mastodon: sakurajima.moe
WordPress: Josei Yuri and Paranormal Romance
Art by Mai-sensei
Twitter: @Maiisheree